


Give In

by m3aculpa



Category: Glee
Genre: Community: glee_kink_meme, Dark, Double Penetration, Gang Rape, Gangbang, M/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-19
Updated: 2010-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m3aculpa/pseuds/m3aculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt was annoyed when Rachel asked, no <em>demanded</em>, he'd drive her boyfriend home. Only too late did he realise that it was a trap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give In

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Give In  
>  **Fandom:** Glee **  
> Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Kurt, Jesse, Vocal Adrenaline, Vocal Adrenaline/Kurt, minor roles from Burt, Carol and Finn  
>  **Warnings:** Gangbang, really nasty non-con, angst, unpleasantness in general  
>  **Word count:** 3980  
>  **Prompt:** Written for [this](http://community.livejournal.com/glee_kink_meme/1224.html?thread=3019976) prompt at the [](http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/profile)[**glee_kink_meme**](http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/) : Vocal Adrenaline gangbang on Kurt. Non-con, lead by Jesse. Any details are up to the author, but slash parings only, if romance is included.  
>  **Summary** : Kurt was annoyed when Rachel asked, no _demanded_ , he'd drive her boyfriend home. Only too late did he realise that it was a trap.

The engine was making a helpless, spluttering sound. Just from that sound he knew he wouldn’t get the car to start again. Looking out of the window, it was dishearteningly dark. He was not afraid of the dark; he just happened to not be _stupid_. Lima was a small town and the possibility of running into someone like, say, Karofsky or Azimio was not small. And under the cover of the dark things could get seriously… unpleasant. He knew it was a grave understatement.

Kurt sighed and brushed his bangs away from his face. Glancing down on his phone, he considered calling his dad. He discarded the thought, because it might support the notion that people already had in his head: that he was some weak damsel in distress that couldn’t handle himself. Despite certain factors, he was a guy, thank you very much. And probably a better mechanic than all the Neanderthals in this town combined.

Ignoring the bad feeling in his gut, he shrugged out of his blue Marc Jacobs jacket. He hated that he was wearing _designer_ , instead of his Cheerio’s uniform. The uniform was easier to wash. Folding the jacket neatly, he resolved to rolling his sleeves up. Hopefully he wouldn’t do any harm to his clothes that the dry cleaners couldn’t fix.

He stepped out of the car and popped the hood after listening a third time. There was something wrong with the oil, he believed. It seemed weird because he had recently refilled his baby, but it was what his training was telling him. He unscrewed the cap and saw some white residue on the edge. Despite knowing better from Chemistry, he reached out and rubbed his finger against it. Admonishing himself for slight stupidity, he realised that the harm was already done. If it was dangerous, then he’d already got it onto his finger. He smelled it.

Oil was just belied with something sweet. Something… sugary.

Sabotage. He just froze when the realization hit him. He was in the middle of an unfamiliar neighbourhood and somebody had poured _sugar_ into his oil. With sudden clarity he knew that it could only have happened at one time, since his baby had been fine just minutes before. And he also knew with dreadful clarity that it was a set-up.

Something had been unsettling him all along. There had been something that had seemed odd. Maybe he hadn’t been thinking about it, because Rachel had bore down on him and he’d do anything to make her shut up at the point. It was weird that she insisted that he’d give Jesse a ride home. He understood if it would awkward to ask Puck (besides who in their right frame of mind would do such a thing?). But surely they were not the only ones with cars.

And Jesse had insisted that Rachel gave him the ten books or so that she’d recommended him. He’d clearly forgotten that he had a lot of school stuff and couldn’t carry everything on his own. The only moment Kurt had left the car was when he’d helped Jesse carry the books. He had thought that the house had been strangely quiet, since Jesse had said that his uncle and aunt were in.

The house was dark now. The only source of light was the streetlights and they were weak at best. There was the sound of footsteps, many footsteps, and no voices. That there was no chatter or laughter, unsettled him even more.

His phone… it was inside his car. When the footstep sounded nearer, he suddenly took a leap. He had managed to get the door open when somebody grabbed him around the middle and lifted him away. The door was shut. He felt strangely numb.

“Hey, Kurt,” Jesse said – Jesse the handsome devil that had snared Rachel and that they had somewhat started to trust. “Having car trouble?”

Somebody let out a nervous bark of laughter. Kurt’s stomach was doing the flips and flops of a roller coaster ride. He didn’t let it show. He gave Jesse an ice cold glare and gracefully twisted out of his grasp, with a snapped ‘don’t touch me!’. Trying not to show how much it unnerved him to be surrounded by so many boys, who were not saying anything. The silence was worse than mocking jeers would have been.

The bad feeling was increasing by the look in Jesse’s eyes that he couldn’t read. He wasn’t in the mood to exchange insults with them, before ending in something decidedly unpleasant. This was the one time he felt it was worth trying to escape. The surrounding men were moving restlessly and Kurt saw a slight opening. Like lightning he slipped through and was sprinting away. Knowing that he wasn’t that quick, he hoped that the surprise element was on his side.

He took off towards the lights in the nearest house, which wasn’t particularly near. Rather on the other end of the street. He wished that he was a better runner. But for a moment it looked like he made it. Then a hard body slammed into him and he went down. He got his arms under himself just enough to protect his face from slamming into the asphalt. He grazed his arms.

Slightly stunned and winded, he didn’t protest much when they hauled him to his feet and started to march him back towards the house. He was panting for breath, until he managed to get it under control. He felt like he had lead in his stomach.

They were not ready for his next attempt at breaking free. He managed to wrestle his arms free and throw more than one punch, before they got a hold of him again. People would be surprised to know that Kurt Hummel did throw a one hell of a punch. Just because he didn’t fight, recognising the futility, didn’t mean that he _couldn’t_. He also wasn’t above fighting dirty – hair-pulling, biting and going for the eyes. Stuff that hurt like hell. He also spewed insults over them, which would normally never come from his mouth, but the terror he felt bereaved him of his usual eloquence.

Somebody ripped his shirt open, scattering the buttons. He wanted to protest and point out that it was… only that the name of the label left his mind completely. Hands suddenly palmed his chest and tweaked his nipples. He didn’t understand why. Or rather, he couldn’t let himself understand why.

Then they were in the house. Somebody tired of dragging him and just lifted him up, keeping his trashing body pressed against a broad chest. The person carried him up the stairs effortlessly despite his kicking. Wasn’t that a blow to his ego? He knew he had a powerful kick – this bastard must be abnormal not to feel it.

They threw him onto the floor, near the wall, in a room upstairs. He tried to get his feet, but they were surrounding him. They kept him down with blows and kicks. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have noticed that they were just winding him, not really hurting him. It would have worried him more.

Curling into a ball against the wall to protect himself, he noticed Jesse conferring silently with two other guys. A kick hit him so he slammed his head into the wall. It dazed him slightly. He noticed them stepping back from him, but knew now that he didn’t have a chance. It was about sixteen guys and he was one person. He was hardly a one-man army.

Jesse knelt down and touched his hair. Kurt flinched away with narrowed eyes. If they were going to shave his hair, they’d to do it over his dead body. There was nowhere for him to go, since he was between the wall and Jesse. Which was the rock and the hard place in this analogy? he found himself wondering. It was an asinine notion and he disregarded it.

Jesse touched his hair again. Caressing it, before moving onto his face. The touch made him highly uncomfortable, even though he didn’t show it. He suddenly realised that his shirt was missing, that it had been torn off somewhere between the stairs and the room. It made him feel even more vulnerable.

“Don’t touch me!” he spat and slapped the hand away, even though it returned quickly. “Just beat me up or whatever so I can return home.” He added bitchily. “You’re already going to make me late for my moisturizing routine.”

“Oh, Kurt, no. No, Kurt, no,” Jesse said with a faux horrified tone of voice, while tracing Kurt’s lower lip. He barely kept himself from biting. “We don’t want to beat you up.” A brief pause, a brief stillness of movement, before a cruel smirk. “We just want to fuck you up.”

He licked his lips to make the point. Kurt’s eyes widened in horrified realisation. He screamed in fury and fear and tried to kick Jesse. He bucked and twisted when they grabbed him. Hands, so many hands, on him. Pulling on his jeans, managing to get the zipper down and the button unbuttoned. They tore them down and his briefs went with them.

The boys that Jesse had been speaking to had returned. And the items in there hands did not reassure Kurt the least. He was dragged kicking and screaming towards the middle of the room. There was a table there. Bending him rather effortlessly over the table, they easily tied his arms to the legs. A spreader bar was forced between his legs. It spread his legs painfully wide and a flush of humiliation stole across his face. He was practically immobilised and only then did the tears come.

He tensed when he heard the sound of a zipper and his body trembled. He was seconds away from screaming and crying and pleading, but tried to remain strong. Then there was the ghost of heat against the back of his thighs when somebody moved in behind him.

“The rules are, I go first,” Jesse said quietly, “and don’t damage him too badly. We want him to be alive, remember? You see, Kurt,” his hands were sliding over his hips and ass, “we just want to break New Directions, so don’t take it personal, k? In fact, you should be a little flattered. Originally I was just going to sleep with Rachel, film it and post it on the Internet. But the dumb slut backed out, can you believe it?”

His squeezed Kurt’s ass cheeks painfully hard. Spreading them, he started rubbing his cock between them. Kurt’s breath hitched in fear and a couple of tears spilled down his face. Man up, he thought to himself. Man up.

“Then we were going to this to her and it would be easier, since she actually trusts me. But we all agreed that you had the best ass. And the guys wanted to fuck it, so,” he leant forward to whisper in Kurt’s ear, “here we are.”

The blunt tip of Jesse’s cock was pressing against his entrance. Up until that point Kurt had been too enthralled by his fear that he’d been unable to protest.

“Oh, God,” he whispered. “Oh, God, no, no, nonononono… please don’t, please don’t.”

He choked on his words when Jesse just thrust in. The cock wouldn’t go all the way in. Kurt was too tight and too tense. But Jesse just forced himself in, inch by agonizing inch. It burnt, stretched and tore at the same time and Kurt whimpered in pain. He bit down hard on his lip when Jesse was fully buried inside him. He felt the other’s balls against his ass. Everything hurt and felt gross.

He screamed when Jesse ripped out before slamming back in. He screamed at every agonizing thrust. The sounds of shrill pleading spilled from his mouth, yet the thrusting kept going. Jesse barely even slowed down when he growled an order,

“Jesus, somebody get him to shut up! Shove a cock into his mouth, because, Kurt,” he whispered and raked his fingers down the pale back, “you wouldn’t be as stupid as to bite, now, would you? Because I’m pretty sure I can get Rachel here to take your place.”

He shook his head in denial. He tried to be quiet but couldn’t stop the soft cries of pain from escaping. A guy was standing in front of him, but he turned his head away. Jesse dug his nails harshly into his bony shoulder blades and his responding cry was shut off by the cock being shoved into his mouth. He choked and gagged. Panicked, he’s trying breathe, he just _couldn’t_. His fingers fluttered uselessly along the legs of the table. Scrambling he dug his nails into the wood and managed to _breathe_ through his nose.

Jesse’s moans and grunts from above him, made him screw up his eyes. He tried to distance himself from the pain. He tried to will himself to imagine that it wasn’t happening to him. It wasn’t working, but he had to try.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Jesse grunted and dug his nails deeper into Kurt’s flesh. “Just imagine… that after… tonight… you’ll be as loose as some random whore.”

Kurt tried to shut the words out, but it wasn’t really working. He was crying so hard he could barely breathe through his nose. Jesse came deep inside of him and withdrew swiftly. He left and another took his place. The head of another cock, bigger than Jesse, nudged his entrance. When the new assailant slid inside, he tried to scream around the cock in his mouth. It felt like they were splitting him into two. The boy in front of him moaned and came in spurts down his throat. He hissed at him to swallow and held his nose so he couldn’t breathe. Kurt had to obey and the softened cock slid out of his mouth, leaving a string of semen down his chin. It was quickly replaced by another.

His head was spinning from the pain and the humiliation. He lost count of how many who had a go at his body. There was cum all over his back and caking his thigh. There was cum drying in his hair. Warm liquid ran down his legs, but he didn’t know whether it was blood or semen. It wasn’t the pain or the filth that was getting to him. It was the words. It was the words that made him cry silently, helplessly and just lie there. The way they called him a whore. His hazy mind conjured up an image of Finn and it made him weep even harder. Even if Finn wasn’t so hopelessly straight, there was no way he would want Kurt now. He was so used and soiled that he couldn’t even remember how many cocks he’d had in his mouth or his ass.

The tears trickling out of his eyes were by now just a reflex. He’s too tired to properly cry. He’s too tired to even flinch when warm cum splattered all over his ass and the back of his thighs. But he did react when nobody took place behind him. He cracked his eyes open and flinched back when he realised that Jesse’s eyes were just inches away from his own. The leader of Vocal Adrenaline smiled devilishly. Kurt realised that there was something seriously wrong with him. There must be for him to do this to him… his breath hitched and he lowered his gaze.

Jesse untied his hands and he cried out in pain when his arms fell free. His shoulders burnt as he feebly tried to push up and away from Jesse. The other just laughed as he released the spreader bar. Kurt’s legs were trembling and he fell into a limp heap on the floor. He couldn’t get up even if he tried to.

Fearfully, he watched as Jesse came closer to him. It felt like a threat when he crouched above him.

“We considered paying our due,” he said and Kurt tried to crawl away. “But then we realised that the resident fag probably would do us for free.”

Kurt flinched sluggishly. The words cut, sure, but what cut more was that Jesse was touching him again. His fingers were caressing Kurt’s naked chest. He teased and tweaked the soft pink nipples. Kurt gasped. Jesse lowered his head and swallowed the gasp up in a mockingly tender kiss. It was gentle and teasing. The lazy caress of the tongue made Kurt feel drunk. Jesse was very good at it.

When the older one broke the kiss, Kurt drunkenly followed. His eyelashes were wet with tears. He hated Jesse. It was just that… that he hurt so much. So much. His mind was driven so confused by all the pain that it latched onto the small kindness. He couldn’t stop his reactions, even if he saw the cruelty in Jesse’s face.

The fingers teased his nipples into hardened nubs. A mouth lowered onto them and Kurt gasped hopelessly at the warm wetness around his nipples. The tongue flicked and swirled, teasing him. His cock was reacting as well. Jesse latched onto the other nipple. Kurt’s eyes blurred with tears, but he just lay there. There was nothing he could do.

The hand dipped lower and grabbed hold of his half-hard cock. It felt like electricity on his cock. It felt so wrong. He moaned and weakly arched into the touch. He felt so ashamed. Jesse pumped a few times before letting go. He spread Kurt’s legs with his hands and moved in between them again. Kurt remembered that he had fucked his mouth at least twice, even if he’d only done his ass twice. He knew this because Jesse always talked. He always demeaned and made it hurt even more.

Jesse slid inside without much resistance and it hurt. Of course it hurt. Kurt blinked away tears. Jesse’s hips rolled and rocked between his thighs. The thick head hitting something that sent white flashes of light over Kurt’s vision. He was moaning and the tears were falling. It felt so good, it felt so wrong, and Jesse’s hand returned to his cock. He pumped in time to his movements and Kurt came with a soft mewl after just a few thrusts.

It broke something even more inside of him.

He started to cry hopelessly.

******

It was late and Finn was very tired. But he couldn’t go to sleep. Kurt was missing. He’d never got home after Glee practice and Burt was half hysterical. They had all tried to reach him, but nobody could get a hold of him. Rachel had talked to Jesse, who only told them that Kurt had dropped him off and then left. Rachel was annoyed with him since he wouldn’t help search, since he was at a party. She had complained of the noise. Despite the rest of the situation, it warmed his heart that she was starting to see Jesse for the douche he was.

They had finally managed to convince Mercedes to go home. And that was only after she threatened him with severe bodily harm if he didn’t call when there was news. But she recognised that there was nothing they could do for now. The police had only told them to wait and see if Kurt came home on his own. It made Finn’s stomach clench in dread. Kurt was so small. He’d never realised how small Kurt was before now, because he always carried himself as a much larger man. How could he never have seen it before, when they were throwing him in dumpsters? He’d never helped, sure, but he’d stood there and let them and Kurt really looked like a twelve-year old.

Suddenly his phone was ringing. He checked the caller-ID automatically, ready to dismiss another call. ‘Kurt’ flashed and suddenly he felt wide-awake. He answered in a slightly annoyed voice,

“Kurt, where are you?” he asked. “Do you know…”

He trailed off. He heard crying on the other end of the line. But not crying like he’d heard before. Not Quinn’s soft sobs or Brittany’s confused, child-like tears when she’d sprained her ankle. No, this crying gave him the chills. It was a low, hopeless sound. It was the cry of a wild animal whose underbelly had been ripped open and had crawled into its home, resigning to die.

The sound was cut off and Finn realised he’d been sitting there like frozen. Now he was yelling Kurt’s name to the phone and Burt and Carole was crowding him. He wasn’t coherent enough the respond to them, just repeating Kurt’s name, his almost step-brother’s name, the guy who looked like a fourteen-year old on a good day…

A text came. An address. They piled into the car and rode in silence. They had called the police again, this time insisting something was wrong. They promised to send a car, but the Hummel-Hudson family still beat them there. Kurt was there. His beloved navigator stood outside the abandoned house.

It was Finn who did not freeze when he saw the shirt on the stairs. Instead he took the steps three at the time and rushed at the door that was opened. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight. Kurt was lying in the middle of the floor. He was completely naked. His thighs were caked with red and white. He was covered in fluids that Finn’s brain refused to let him recognise. There was none of those broken noises coming from him now. He looked dead. His eyes wouldn’t focus on Finn.

His mum’s horrified gasp brought Finn back to his senses. He moved over and cringed his jacket off. He wrapped it around Kurt and carefully, still ripping a cry of pain out of Kurt, cradled him against his chest. Kurt flinched, but did not try to move away. His body was tense, before he involuntarily collapsed against Finn’s chest from exhaustion. His cheek rested on the broad chest. Tears soaked through Finn’s t-shirt.

Carole was crying and Burt was just standing there with a broken, devastated expression. Finn was suddenly annoyed with them. Didn’t they realise that Kurt was hurt? He needed help!

“Call an ambulance!” he snapped.

Carole obeyed with trembling fingers and choked sobs. Finn ignored her hysterical message to the dispatched and focused on Kurt. The smaller boy was whispering something. But it was so quiet that Finn couldn’t hear it. He leaned down to listen and drew back horrified.

“You’re not a whore!” he cried out loudly in horror.

Carole started to cry with big, child-like sobs and Burt almost put his hand through the wall. Kurt took no notice of them. He was just focusing on Finn with dead, blue eyes. And Finn was chilled to realise that this could possibly have gone on for hours. Kurt had been in somebody’s claw, completely at their mercy, and it had made him believe whatever that person had been saying.

“Who did this to you?” the football player asked with a quivering voice.

The answer proved to be too much and he closed his eyes. Even when Kurt stumblingly told him why he had stopped struggling, that he’d had to keep Rachel safe, he couldn’t open his eyes. But he whispered admiration for his bravery, for keeping Rachel safe, for being so strong…

Finn felt a murderous rage inside: Vocal Adrenaline was going down.

Kurt Hummel belonged to New Directions and New Directions were family. Nobody, _nobody_ , messed with Finn’s family and got away with it.  


  


**Author's Note:**

> Sequel: [The Broken Road](http://archiveofourown.org/works/256463).


End file.
